


a girl and a grey ghost

by bubba ate hubba (psychedelicbubblegum)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Bonding, Dragonstone, Early Days, I just really love dragons, Let the Grey Ghost Live, Not Beta Read, Other, POV First Person, Poetry, Prose Poem, We Die Like Dragonriders, dragon poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:26:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24735376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychedelicbubblegum/pseuds/bubba%20ate%20hubba
Summary: The wheel of fate is forever turning, and with these changes, a dragonseed takes her chance to befriend the most elusive of dragons...
Kudos: 4





	a girl and a grey ghost

Across the hills I did walk, rock hot beneath my feet,

Smoke pinching my nose and slapping my eyes, harsh and unforgiving, scent twice as pungent and stinking,

Rough with craggy fire and rot, seeping from the pores of a dozy volcano,

Ahead of me, the rocks were splintered into caves and hollows, 

The ground beneath me uneven,

Stumble, hop, stumble, dart,

I never was once for dance yet boldness clutched my breast with claws-o’-steel and surrender was purged from my thoughts.

About the corner I would see him...

Grey Ghost,

A whisper of smoke amidst a raging bluster: silent and nervous, quiet and shrouded in self-imposed exile.   
Neither Friend nor foe of men - we are merely interlopers and on our breath, danger and loathing is thick, the promise of longaxe, spear and bastard sword...

Bright with cruelty and prejudice.

Even those with Valyria’s kiss upon us - the swansong of a kingdom collapsed and drowned in Doom - were not guaranteed success... For we are of a different kind, and even other dragons are to be avoided.

He is morning mist, dear Grey Ghost,

Scales the meeting point of grey and white, lighter than the steam omitted from Dragonmont, darker than the wispy clouds...

When washed with rain, he glistened with the shine of marble, sculpted and perfected by gods out of my minds’ eye - the sort I dared not try to reach for.

I carried little, a simple napsack: sewn by mother, whose hands know fabric as deftly as a septon does a prayer,

Within is nought but fish.

Stinking, slippery, freshly caught fish: mackerel and sardines (scales still slick, bright as pennies). Grey Ghost isn’t picky - from the stories flitting about each and every island - but I bartered deftly on the morrow with the fisher folk.

Sour and unfriendly they were, but the silver of my hair at least held back a dose of mockery...

At least that of which I could hear.

‘Dragonseed’ was the whisper the wind carried - and that I am.

A silverspun bastard with the Dragon Road mapped into my veins, yet its mysteries are lost on both books and my own head,

the only remnants of such a land I have left are the moonlight of my hair and the chance of taking to the skies on dragonback...

Time and sheer thickheaded stubbornness led me to the Grey Ghost.

While it seemed easier - to turn back, seek either one of his fellows or merely return home, forgetting my daydreams and daring hope - I have never been one known to heed good advice.

Scaling the ledges, battered hands aching - 

blisters and bruises sprouted across my palm and fingertips; ripely blooming and garish shades of mauve and maroon -

I refused to falter; checked each and every cave and nook large enough to house him; peered outwards across the water where a shadow would tilt into the clouds as fish were snatched up from the waves...

Until I found it - scattered with fish bones and trinkets: slithers of broken cogs and tattered pieces of great galleys: his lair...

It was not about catching the dragon unawares,

No,

A child I may have been - fourteen, dizzy with a promise of adventure, never one known to halt and ponder once a great adventure captured my heart;

but even I, a dragonseed born of Ser Taegarys Velaryons’ loins, when he laid with a commoner once his wife had passed,

Knew better than to encroach upon a dragons’ quarters.

Mayhaps, a braver soul would have took such a chance, laid their claim quicker and with far more splendor than I,

(that girl silver haired girl with scarred hands and plump cheeks),

Wrote a ballad or a sonnet - or found a bard to do as such for them - once they made their return...

Yet I was not here for glory. There was never much to spare anyways.

Instead of trespassing - breaking into the Grey Ghost’s home and poking at him while he slumbered, catching him unawares and prickled with fear;

I left gifts.

My putrid selection of fish, slung out from my cloth bag, tossed about the grounds before I made my descent - to a small vessel, manned by a one-eyed, retired pirate, who asked no questions of me and mine, as long as I returned the courtesy.

As my returns grew more frequent I saw it,

the offerings had been accepted and devoured, realised to not be poisoned traps but sincere tokens,

A friend even?

Would shy Grey Ghost want such companionship?

Would he ever take to the skies, rider on his back, ready to sail outwards, closer to the home now burnt and ruined? Or would the Shadowlands take his fancy?

Would my efforts be worthwhile?

For all my questions, I had naught for answers...yet a willful - _ “too headstrong by half”, _ were the words accompanied by a ruffle of my hair; silver and white dancing - girl would never be stopped.

Upon the ledge I was met by a surprise.

My heart looped in my chest - a twirl or maybe a cartwheel? - and landed in the pit of my stomach. My throat went dry and all I could do was turn to stone for a second, limbs frozen as my scuppered boots stilled on the rock.

Beneath me, even the volcano halted its breath.

The gulls cries tittering, daresay closer to Mother’s own voice, reminding me of the cautions I cast aside, brushed into the wind and bid goodbye, once I set upon such a journey...

Before me, he sat: the Grey Ghost.

His wings were folded and he perched on the ledge just before his home - truly morning mist caught in a pale ray of light; scales all ashimmer; wisps of smoke so pale they were near invisible, rising with each breath he gave...

He turned his head and it struck me then how the colour of his eyes had been lost for decades.

They were a grey as rugged as storm-bit sky and made me think of the deep ocean bed: dark and soulful, pools to drown in; trepidation lingering and unashamed as he stared upon me.

With a quick inhale of his nostrils - gaping storms eyes, pushing heat outwards to settle across the sweat already clinging to my skin; a heaving molasses I would purge by gracing the ocean...if I was not burned where I stood, a fools’ tale for all to behold - and he smelled the gift’s I bore...

Was it recognition I saw flash in the dark grey?

I risked a smile...

He did not flee.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was pretty much written on a whim and - of course - not Beta Read, because I have absolutely no impulse control when it comes to unleashing my dumbass poetry on the masses!
> 
> I absolutely ADORE the Grey Ghost and wish he'd received a happier ending than being devoured (;-;) sooo, I decided to write as such myself! Hopefully there should be some more writing on this particular AU of mine at some point, I'm just working on the details, but wanted to unleash some more dragon love on the world! 
> 
> Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated, so hit me up!


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